DO NOT do any of these if blogging is important to you!

Ok, truth: this is really a list of five stupid things that have kept ME from blogging for the past month…

1. I got in a fight. Not like punching or anything. My mom and I drove to Idaho with

One year ago today I wrote my first blog post. The post stunk, mainly because I was trying too hard to be something I’m not: a writer who, on a first draft, can write brilliant online fiction. The experience taught me that like most mortals, I must spend hours and

I’m alone in one of the library’s tiny study rooms trying to write something deep and profound. That’s what REAL writers do. I don’t want to be a failure, so I try to think deep thoughts.

The door is closed and even though I’ve been here only twenty minutes (distracted by texts

I woke up yesterday with a cold sore. My lip was swollen and blistery and I was pretty sure the world was ending.

Turns out I’m still here. I think everyone else is, too. Apparently, the Mayans weren’t trying to predict anything; they just got sick of calendar-making.

Don’t think I wasn’t worried,

Like most Americans, I dutifully spent Turkey Day in full consumption mode. I ate more turkey and potatoes and stuffing than I had capacity to digest and so, spent the next day combating killer heartburn and indigestion. Feeling like an idiot. I did put the hurt on the TUMS, though,

I promised fellow bloggers Maggie at Fly Away Home and Aubrey at Write Aubrey Write that I would participate in the author tagging game called the Look Challenge. The game’s for bloggers who are also writers and is a way to let others sneak a peek at your work.

Here’s how it works: Search your manuscript for

The Syrup Store in downtown Johnson.

About an hour drive from Burlington is the tiny town of Johnson, Vermont. Notable features include a wool store, Lovin’ Cup Cafe, a syrup store, a college, and the Vermont Studio Center (VSC). If you’re a writer or artist interested in doing a

So I’m at this retirement party for these two guys my husband used to work with and I’m talking to this woman–another former co-worker of my husband, but also a friend of mine–who mentions she read (at least started to read) the original story I tried drafting in real-time on

So it’s my last day at the Vermont Studio Center in Johnson, Vermont, and I’m already sad. And sappy.

I’ve met the most amazing artists from all over the world, and I hate leaving them.

Did I get a ton of writing done, not really. But, oh! What an experience.

I met Ron

Summer, my thirties, the pears I canned last year…so many cool things on the verge of being gone forever.

Stupid finite human reality. I hate it.

Now I have regrets…like  I should have blogged during August (I’m a slacker). Should’ve made more of myself during the decade of my thirties. I should have savored

Usually I give it up for free. Now I feel used and I haven’t even held the check in my hand, just a contract promising me $250. (I hear that’s good money for what I just did.)

Yeah, that’s right. I sold a piece of myself…A piece of writing.

I thought it would

I’m not sure why I love this mural. It’s painted on a building along Seattle’s busway in the SoDo Urban Art Corridor.

Maybe it’s the absurdity or the tension or the cat’s pink party hat or the red star on the girl’s pocket.

There’s something about the look in that Girlie’s wild cartoon